Rain
by xxstrawberry16xx
Summary: This is your story. Really, it is my story but your life is the one that was changed, so I am going to say that it is yours. 'Perhaps' told from Mitchie's POV. *Smitchie Oneshot*


_This is the the sequel, if that's what you want to call it, to Perhaps._

_Enjoy. :) And... I'm sorry if either story makes you cry... I know they made me cry._

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This is your story.

Really it is my story – but your life is the one that was changed, so I am going to say that it is yours.

I am lying here in my bed, with the rain falling softly on the windowpane and I know that I am dying. So right now I am going to tell a story – the story I would tell you if you were here with me.

It is our story.

Two years ago I was working at the deli on the corner in my neighbourhood. It was pouring with rain and I could see you out of the corner of my eye as I wrapped luncheon for an old lady. I never did like luncheon. Not even before I stopped – well, you know.

You were running across the street, water dripping off your hair. You were holding a red umbrella. I remember thinking that was funny. A red umbrella. It wasn't doing much to keep you dry.

That was the day that you walked out of the rain and into my life – red umbrella and all.

You grinned at me as soon as you came into the shop, flicking your dark hair out of your eyes. You stood just inside the door, not moving to get in line or bothering to look at the meats and cheeses. You just stood there, grinning at me.

As soon as I finished with the luncheon – thank God – I turned to you.

You told me you didn't want anything – just a place to get out of the rain and I smiled at you and we chatted until the rain had stopped and it was time for you to leave.

You came often after that. Sometimes it was raining. Sometimes it wasn't.

You told me about your family – your mom and dad who were photographers; your older brother who was an artist who painted watercolor pictures of birds; your younger brother who was a piano virtuoso.

"And what about you?" I had asked.

You shrugged your shoulders and smiled good-naturedly. "I'm just me."

I never forgot that. To everyone else you were just Shane, an average 15-year-old. But to me you were everything.

Two months after I met you it was my fifteenth birthday. You asked me out on our first date.

I don't remember ever being so excited about something before. There's nothing quite like being fifteen and on your first date.

Fifteen is an age of hope, of possibilities, of dreams about the future, of building castles in the air.

You were my first boyfriend, my first love, my only love. I thought that it wasn't possible for life to get any better.

But then it rained.

It always rains.

My grandmother came to visit from the country. I had known you for almost a year now. She took one look at me and asked how I had ever managed to 'get' a boyfriend looking the way I did.

I say 'get' because it really wasn't like that with you. I didn't 'get' you, nor did you 'get' me. We just kind of fell into each other's lives. It wasn't of our doing.

It just happened. Love just happens.

They say that you can choose whom you like, but not whom you love. That's the way it was with us.

After my grandmother left I didn't become depressed – I knew that it was just her way to say things like that. But I became determined.

In my eyes you were perfect. So I wanted to be perfect too.

So I stopped eating. It was as simple as that. At first I was constantly fighting – what I wanted over what something, someone, a part of me I didn't even know existed, wanted.

After a while it became easy. I gave in to her – the other me. It was easier that way. Through it all though I was frightened. I was frightened of what would happen if I didn't eat.

But I was even more frightened of what would happen if I did.

I remember walking with you one day, complaining about how fat I was. I said I didn't fit my clothes.

That was true. I didn't fit my clothes. It wasn't because I was fat though.

It had started to rain by then and you spun me around so that I was facing you. "No," you said, almost angrily. "You're not. You're perfect and I love you." And with that you kissed me hard.

I pulled back, shaking my head. By now my tears had mixed with the rain pouring down. "Don't say that. You don't." But I let you kiss me anyway.

In all my favourite memories of you it is raining.

Us dancing in the parking lot, laughing with the rain streaming down both our faces. Us fighting for the first time, and you standing outside in the rain until morning when I opened the door. I cried when I found you there. Us running and dancing and skipping and laughing – in the rain.

Perhaps the rain was a bad sign. I never really believed in signs before, but maybe I do now. Maybe I should have payed attention to the rain. Maybe it would have stopped things going this far.

Because as the weeks together turned into months I watched the girl in the mirror disappear.

I know a lot of girls with eating disorders deny it. I didn't.

I don't.

But by now, it's a part of me. A part that I kind of like. The only thing that I don't like is that it is not a part of me that _you_ like.

You are so good to me though. You love me even though I don't love myself.

Every week, twice a week for the past few months, you have walked me to the doctors and back for 'treatment'. That's their way of saying "Eat or you'll die".

I know that I will die. I know that one day my heart won't be able to take it anymore and it will eventually stop. But it's okay. I'm used to the idea now.

We walked together. Slowly. Under your red umbrella when it rained. I didn't like to talk on the way home, but I let you put your arm around me and we walked like that.

I used to push you away when you touched me, but I have grown accustomed to it now. Even if it meant that you could feel how fat I was, it was comforting.

I liked it – just like I liked you. That was one of the things that I loved most about you – how you could comfort me. Everything was okay when I was with you.

That was what made me start thinking. Maybe for your sake I should try. I should try to get better.

So yesterday when you came to see me I told you I wanted to fight and you promised me that you'd help. You said that you would stick with me 'til the end.

And I told you that I loved you.

I know that made you happy.

And today I'm glad that I told you, because today you didn't come to see me. And I realised that it is too late. The time for fighting has long since come and gone.

But if you had of come today then I would have told you that it's not your fault.

Please believe me when I say that it wasn't your fault. It isn't your fault. It would have happened even if you had of been here. And I think that in a way, the rain was a good thing. It was what brought you to me and somehow, I think it is better to have loved and lost, then to never love it all.

Now, I can feel myself growing more tired so I sit up and reach for the pad of paper on my nightstand. I write slowly, searching for the right words to say.

_Dear Shane,_

_I'm sorry. So so sorry. I waited too long to fight. Now you'll have to fight for me. Live for me Shane. I can't live for myself anymore, and I know that you won't want to either when I die. That might be tonight or it might not. All I know is that I left it too late to fight. But even though I might be gone by the time you read this, you have to keep fighting. You have to keep living. You have to keep loving. Do it for me Shane._

_And no matter what you do with your life, know that I will always be with you._

_I love you with everything I have and everything I am._

_I love you._

_Mitchie_

I slip the paper into an envelope and put it on the nightstand. Then I lie back, listening to the sound of the rain on the roof and the sound of my breathing slowing.

I close my eyes and as my heart beats fainter, one final thought comes into my mind.

_Funny how it rains._

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**Please review and let me know what you thought of it. :)**

**Love,**

**-Nikki**


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